All the Kings Horses
by MobianEngineer
Summary: My world rumbled and the steel chariot in which I was encased belched fire. I quickly spun back around looking through the small view port. I was met with a moment of vast expanse followed by a grand explosion as something farther than my eyes could see met with the deadly force of our beast.
1. Chapter 1

**All the Kings Horses**

**Chapter 1: Realization **

**July 12, 1943**

**Prokhorovka, USSR**

The metallic clang of a spent 88mm shell hitting the base of the turret was loud and obnoxious, it however was nothing compared to the ungodly sound that would follow in a few short seconds. Two things preceded the end of sanity, the slight whine of hydraulics followed by the command to fire from our commander. I looked back at just the right moment to watch the gunner pull the trigger. That one simple action, preformed with such finality was the last step in a perfectly coordinated dance that the gunner and the loader had learned. My world rumbled and the steel chariot in which I was encased belched fire. I quickly spun back around looking through the small view port. I was met with a moment of vast expanse followed by a grand explosion as something farther than my eyes could see met with the deadly force of our beast.

"Enemy destroyed. Adjust gun ten degrees right and target the T-34 at fifteen hundred metres." Our commander was always a stoic man, but that was cold even for him. He sounded as though what he had just accomplished was nothing more than ordering a coffee when in reality he had most likely sent five men to their graves. There was that clang again as the casing hit the deck. This had been the routine for two hours. Shoot, reload, adjust, over and over much like the drum beat of the war itself. I looked to my right to see the radioman/hull gunner let out an excited shout as the next shell was loaded into the breach. I stared out once again at the plume of black smoke rising in the distance, knowing full well that in a moment it would be joined by another. To my dismay... I was right.

The final target in our sector was another T-34 that had actually managed to close in to about two hundred metres. Unlike his two counterparts that stayed at range and stable this one was mobile running laterally around trying to get to our backs. At this point I knew that I would be instrumental to our survival. As the T-34 pulled to our rank flank to pass us, I slammed the tank into reverse and pulled hard on the left track break which swung the entire front, including the giant 88mm gun to the right. Once the gun was lined up, I watched as the muzzle flashed, spewing a metal promise of death at our speedy foe.

"Target missed. Reload AP and adjust to lead target, driver pull us back and keep that little _wicht_ in front of us."

Following orders I moved us back about a hundred metres keeping the target in front. This was actually a little difficult to do as the uneven terrain constantly obscured my field of view. "AP loaded sir, ready to fire." our loader called out just as the T-34 vanished behind a low ridge. With no target except a large dust cloud all we could do was wait. It was at this very moment that something extraordinary happened, something that would forever solidify in my mind how truly insane the Russians were. As we were about to risk going over the ridge to engage the tank again, it flew over the ridge line fast enough to actually fly through the air and land beside us. As it hit the ground it's right track shattered forcing the entire machine to slide directly behind us.

I only had a moment to look into the loaders eyes as he started to swear, the sound cut off by a deafening racket far worse then our gun ever created. As the T-34 slid in behind us it was in the perfect position to hit the back of our turret, a position that their commander most certainly took advantage of. At this range and presented with our thinnest armour it had no trouble in blasting a hole right into our ammo storage. I was not aware of how close we all came to being an inferno until after the battle though as my immediate concern rested with the mangled corpse of what used to be our loader falling out of the turret into the front cabin, right next to me.

The next few seconds were nothing but a ringing and blurry ordeal, shapes I could see but could not comprehend. Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew it was shell shock but that did little to actually prepare me for the event. In my dazed state I reached down and tried to shake the loader awake, but he wouldn't. Completely unable to comprehend why he wouldn't wake up I looked over to the hull gunner for aid only to see him slumped against his MG-34, looking at me with dull eyes, panicked I looked back into the turret for either the gunner or the commander to help me. Something was wrong though, why was there sunlight in the tank? Who opened a hatch in combat? Suddenly, realization hit harder then that shell ever could have. There wasn't a hatch open the whole turret was gone, blown off when the ammo rack was hit. And everyone wasn't unconscious or asleep they were all dead. Finishing the train of thought I sat still, surrounded by death and destruction. Finally I did the only this I could, I screamed and I screamed until eventually everything went dark for me too.

Unfortunately for me death did not come so easily. As I finally regained consciousness images from earlier swan in my head, forcing me in agonizing detail to relive everything. I shook my head to clear them out and made to get up. Suddenly I realized I was in a bed. I didn't have much time to dwell on it as a man in a lab coat approached me.

"Good to see you finally up, I was worried you were going to die of nightmares. Don't worry now though, you are in a field hospital just outside of Minsk. Before you ask you were found in the wreck of a Tiger by a group of Grenadiers from SS Leibstandarte thirty hours ago and you were returned here for recuperation and reassignment.

That last part of the sentence rang alarm bells inside my head and I was quick to vocalize this. "No, absolutely not. I am not going back out there. Not after what just happened. I lost everyone in that demon of a machine an there is no way on gods green earth that I will ever set foot in one again."

The doctor, whom I just realized I had not even asked his name sighed and gave me a glare that seemed to burrow into my very mind. It was a rather unsettling experience to say the least. "Do you think that you are the only man to suffer the loss of friends to this war. That's rather selfish of you to think. Look around you at all these beds, full of wounded and sick. I hope you realize many won't even live to see the sunrise tomorrow and here you are moping that you have a clean bill of health, that you actually get to walk out of here or didn't leave parts of yourself back in that tank.

Honestly how many people do you think are going to die if the Russians are allowed to reach the Fatherland, hmm? We have to stop them here before the Western Allies invade Europe, if we don't then all could be lost. So in an effort to stem the tide that washes around us one good driver does actually make a difference in the grand scheme of things. You have experience and wisdom and any new crew would be damn lucky to have you leading them to victory, and if I can't sway you to change your mind it may help to mention that you really have no choice in the matter anyway since almost everyone who can has been conscripted to fight.

I could do nothing but stand there as he handed me a piece of paper, utterly dumbfounded by the passion in which he had essentially guilt tripped me into changing my mind. I took the paper and quickly skimmed the contents. It was my new orders, I was to meet a new tank crew that was missing a driver at the train station a few blocks away. Backing away slightly I offered the doctor a quick salute and began walking out.

"Viel Glück, Gefreiter Markus Scheller."

End of Chapter 1

I know it's short but don't worry the next chapters will be much longer.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: War's Harsh Reality**

**July 13th, 1943**

**Minsk, German Staging Area**

It was early evening by the time I reached the train yard. The whole place was rife with activity. Trains constantly being loaded and unloaded with constant noise at all hours of the day in an attempt to keep the front line units well maintained... they were failing. The men here could not really be held to blame though. Despite the fact that Minsk was something around eight to nine hundred kilometres from Belgorod it is one of the few major cities that can be used to transport the sheer volume of men and equipment needed to continue the war effort in the east. One of the key issues that Wehrmacht is facing in Russia is logistics and that is caused by one serious flaw. Railroads.

The key problem is essentially down to size. German railroads, like most European nations are larger than the ones here in Russia. What this means is that all of our trains have to stop off at a city that can handle both systems, unload the cargo from our trains then reload everything onto a captured train. This process adds at least a day to the time it takes for supplies to reach the front and only if the trains actually make their destination without being blown up by the Partisans. Needless to say the entire situation was a complete mess and showed no sign of getting any better.

As I walked out of the station onto the platforms I suddenly realized that I had no idea where exactly I was to go. There were several rail lines with platforms on either side all connected by underground tunnels and not one of them held freight trains. As I gazed about for some indication of armour being unloaded I noticed a rather haggard looking officer trying in vain to to orchestrate the madness around him. As I watched him moving around as if conducting a symphony I realized that he couldn't have been more than a day over twenty.

Closing the distance between us quickly I grabbed his attention with a loud shout. Despite the loud noise he immediately turned a rather sour look onto me. "I am extremely busy if you haven't noticed. So if you could please direct whatever question you deem so important to your commanding officer that would be greatly appreciated." A little taken back by his abruptness I nonetheless continued Rank be damned. This boys attitude was really rubbing on my already frayed nerves. Raising myself to my full height, I stared down at him and replied simply. "I would if he wasn't in pieces all over the steppes."

This news did seem to get through to him somewhat. Taking a quick breath to compose himself the young man looked back up at me. "I am part of one of the last units from the 6th Army." That struck a chord. The 6th Army was the main force tasked with the capture of Stalingrad. Many of the men who went there were dead or captured. That alone explained why such a young man was so highly ranked.

I felt the dirty feeling of guilt wash over me as I realized that this boy, who could not be a day older than my own son, was forced into a situation in which he should never have to face. Everyday he will need to wake up and be responsible for not only his life but the lives of everyone under him. This is burden that no child should ever have to carry. "I'm sorry..." It was all I could think of. He simply stared at me. That same look of cold indifference on his face. It was the look of a world weary man and to see it on the face of a child was... Disturbing. "I stopped being sorry a long time ago. I stopped being sorry when I realized my life was forfeit, another obstacle for the Soviets to try and overcome. Now before you try to offer some kind of sympathy I want to know what you want?" Deciding that dwelling on the harshness of the situation would be counter productive I decided to bring the conversation to a close as quickly as possible. "I'm looking for my new crew. I was assigned to Unterfeldwebel Felix Böhm. I'm to be his new driver."

The boy looked me up and down before nodding. "Good I needed a competent driver. Tell me, what vehicles are you used to driving?" Quickly realizing the meaning behind his words I answered in a slightly more respectful tone. "High tonnage, the last being a Tiger only ours had a few non standard upgrades. One of which was a Maybach HL 234 that we salvaged from a destroyed prototype undergoing field trials. That engine was able to put out eight hundred and seventy horse power and actually pushed the tank over thirty kilometres per hour which is pretty fast when you consider that it is a fifty seven tonne vehicle. Another was a long range radio we took from an old scout tank." Böhm actually looked quite impressed with this news. At first he though he was going to get another rookie driver, only then to find out his replacement was actually a survivor of Operation Citadel but one who could operate a heavy tank with the speed and manoeuvrability of a medium

"Adaptability leads to greater chances of survival. Pity it didn't help your former crew." I raised an eyebrow at that comment but let it slide. It wouldn't do well to teach the boy the manners he was sorely lacking at this moment, opting to bite off a simple response. "Indeed."

It was obvious that he was getting to me but still Böhm pressed on, "I have always found luck to be a suitable replacement for skill. It would seem that they had neither. I guess only time will tell which you possess." Under absolutely no circumstance would I allow a child to speak with me in such a manner, as it was though Böhm could hardly be considered a child anymore. That said since I couldn't deal with him as a boy then I would simply do so as a man. Leaning over and getting right in his face I delivered a look that I was sure would kill lesser men. "If you are really trying to piss me off then you're going in the right direction. If you dare to speak ill of my friends again then I assure you that not even the whole of Germany will be able to save you." I spoke with such iron control, the very vehemence left no chance to doubt the fact that a line had been crossed I was not likely to forgive, let alone forget that anytime soon.

Contrary to the anger or fear I was expecting, my glare was met with a grin. Taken slightly back by this reaction I stepped forward, ready to demand an explanation. I was beaten there as I found an extended hand. "Well done. You passed the one and only test I have for you. The tank and the rest of the crew are down the freight platforms about a quarter kilometre." Now I was thoroughly confused. One minute Böhm is a stoic officer with a chip on his shoulder the next he has a goofy grin on his face while tempting fate. Noticing the look on my face, Böhm levels the grin and in a voice that seems slightly higher then it did when I walked up began to explain. "I did not mean what I said about your friends but I needed to get a rise out of you. Over that last year I learned that a tank crew is more than a part of an army. We are of a different mindset and cannot allow things like rank and status cloud our ability to work as a unit. Even the slightest hesitation could mean the end of us all. I would prefer my orders questioned if someone has a better idea then to allow more people to die because of poor judgement or a lack of knowledge. I needed to make sure that rank already held little respect for you and that you would be loyal to a fault. I now know that both of these are truths for you and so you have my blessing to be part of my crew."

At this point I was torn between surprise and anger, unsure how to react properly my mind settled on a mixture of the two and only allowed me to find the quickest end to this conversation. I quickly decided that I did not like this person and the less interaction I had with him the better. And yet I was drawn in by his odd personality. After arguing with my mind on how to proceed we came to an agreement that I would leave for now but would return and press Böhm for more details later. "Can you please tell me where the vehicle and the rest of the crew are? Sir." The last word being bitten off as if it were something unsavoury.

Looking up at me with that grin again, which I was learning to hate very quickly. Böhm pointed over the platform towards some freight warehouses. "In one of those I suspect. Not sure which one they stashed it in but I'm sure you'll find it easy enough. It's got a big "131" stamped on the turret." Spinning on heel I stalked off in the direction shown not bothering to mince words any longer then absolutely required.

Upon reaching the warehouses I was faced with about forty five Pz. Kpfw IV's scattered about in a vain attempt to look organized. All the tanks looked brand new, the paint barely having time to dry before being dragged out here on the trains. No matter how new the vehicles looked though it was their crews who looked the newest. After a minute of searching I found what I was looking for. A Panzerkampfwagon IV sitting in the shade provided by the roof with not but a blemish on her. It was almost hard to believe that this piece of equipment would soon be like family to me. Her seventy five by forty eight millimetre gun was brand new not yet tainted by the scorch marks that marked her baptism by fire. The treads and interlocking wheels not one spot of mud on them. The eight centimetres of frontal armour still intact and devoid of grooves and holes that were the evidence of hard won, or lost battles.

She was ready for battle, for the moment when everything that made this a tank was to be put up against a foe who had just as much to lose. A battle of skill, will, and luck that would decide the lives of those who were encased within. Too bad I couldn't say the same for her crew. Before me sat three kids. Even after meeting Böhm I was astounded by these individuals. Shaking my head with pity I realized that the oldest of the bunch couldn't be over sixteen. My initial suspicians as to their ages was confirmed when I saw the insignias on their uniforms. Apparently the Fatherland had found it necessary to mobilize the Hitler Youth and blend them into the Wehrmacht. As I approached the boys stopped there conversation and turned to face me. Upon seeing my uniform and rank insignia they snapped off a hasty salute. Not bothering to return the gesture I hopped up onto the tank and opened the drivers hatch. Taking a step back from the opening I looked back at seemed to pass for a crew and began barking out instructions. "To your stations." When I didn't hear footsteps I looked back again and was met with unsure glances and hesitation. "I said TO YOUR STATIONS!" That got the reaction I was looking for. All three boys jumped into action with two climbing up to the turret and the last opening the hatch to the right of mine. When I finally lowered myself into the tank I saw that all three had found their seats and stared at me expectantly. Not even caring to look back I answered their stares. "I do not care what your names are or where you are from. All I care about is that you just got yourselves and by extension me, killed. There are any number of situations that would cause either myself or the commander to order us to move. Many of which involve trying to avoid this tank from becoming a shared coffin. Your lack of action cost us the precious seconds we needed to avoid another tank or bombers and now all of us are dead." Finally taking the chance to look back I continued. "Because of you my wife and kids get a letter and a flag but no body. The same consideration will be handed to your families as well. I do not intend to have my family miss me in this life. That said in here you are my family as I am yours. And while I may hate the fact that you are here, fighting an old mans war. Believe that I will do everything to protect my family as I expect my family to protect me."

Sorry that took so long folks I promise to update much more often. Most likely on a bi-weekly schedule.


End file.
